


To Be a Woman

by mushembra



Series: Darla 'One-Shot' Cunningham, Sniper for Hire [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: AKA MacCready is understanding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Even though Darla is a super meanie, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Menstruation, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushembra/pseuds/mushembra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darla always hated this time of the month, but in a time where the things she turned to comfort and made her life just a little bit easier no longer exist, she's a madwoman on a rampage. Which is bad news for MacCready, who has no fucking clue why he's still putting up with this shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be a Woman

**Author's Note:**

> Its been a loooong time since I've done ANY sort of writing, so bare with me!  
> I've fallen into Fallout 4 hell, and just couldn't resist throwing myself into the fandom with shitty art and fics.  
> Darla is my Sole Survivor, and all of my fics (unless someone requests one) will be written with her as the primary character with whoever else.  
> In case it isn't obvious who her new husbando is, it's MacCready, but I'll likely write other fics highlighting her friendships with her favorite companions.  
> I'll be posting all of her fics in a series, but everything will be kinda written on a whim as they come to me in no real chronological order, but I'll let you know if it's a follow up in the summary
> 
> I'm willing to take fic requests if anyone has any, either with my character, your character, just companions, ANYTHING!  
> Just shoot me a message and we can hash out details!

MacCready definitely wasn't paid enough to be putting up with this shit. 250 measly caps was what he had offered his services for, and one Darla Cunningham, the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, all too happily took him up. He figured this nice little ditz, who had a radiant and sickeningly sweet smile and a heart of gold, would end up blown limb from limb in a couple of weeks, tops, then he could be off on his merry way with her caps in pursuit of another job. He certainly wasn’t banking on the fact that she was damn good with a sniper rifle, apparently had a lot more allies and connections than he thought she would, and was about the most stubborn woman he’d ever had the misfortune to be employed under. Hell, none of the women dumb enough to join the Gunners could hold a candle to just how much Darla could rub him the wrong way, and today was definitely one of the worst.

“Could you stop walking so damn close to me?!”

Darla whipped her head around to burn holes into MacCready with her eyes, and he just returned a look of exasperation. He was trailing Darla by well more than ten paces, and still the bitch was nagging him! It was usually the way she was so damn nice that got to him. Like, did they have to really help every poor soul they walked by? Always with the handouts to sorry ass people who weren't willing to bother trying to get their shit together because they could just mooch off of people like her. But today was a whole new level of irritation.

“Do you want me to have your back or are you really itchin’ to get your a--or are you really willing to risk having no cover out in the open like this? Because I could leave your six exposed if that's what you want.”

The only reason MacCready had yet to start swearing up a storm was because he kept it to his thoughts. He didn't want to break his promise, but damn did this she-devil need a good tongue lashing. She may be his boss, but he didn’t deserve to be treated like he was trash. Darla grit her teeth together, halting her steps in favor of going rigid and stiff. Alright, that was another thing. Her pace was sorely lacking today, and MacCready was not the least bit pleased they were traversing some wide area of valley with zero vantage points and zero cover. They were a sitting fucking ducks out here! By the time he could get his sights properly trained on their target, they're going to be mongrel meat. Just how he wanted to die; as some mutt’s meal. This was not going to work.

“Boss, look, we need to find somewhere to hunker down for the night. We’re going to be hikin’ it in the dark if we don’t stop now at this pace.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

Darla pivoted on her foot to quickly face MacCready, and damn did it look like she was about to have his balls on a silver platter. He threw his hands up, standing his ground, refusing to let this bitch have the last word. She should be grateful he didn’t just slip off on her already! How the hell would she find him again if he were to take her caps and run? In fact, he didn’t know why he was still here. She didn’t seem to have a real goal in mind, he was not down to be an errand boy side-kick, and maybe now with a couple of caps in his pocket he could take a little more time to find someone who could pay him a whole hell of a lot better. Lord knows he was in desperate need of the caps.

“What the fu--WHAT IS YOUR DEAL HUH?! You’ve been recklessly plodding around all day! We’re out in the open, it’s going to get dark soon enough, and you’re making me out to be the bad guy here! What do you want from me?!”

“If you have a problem with how I do shit, then why don’t you just fucking _leave_ MacCready! I’m not stopping you! All you wanted were your damn caps. Well, you have them! In fact…”

Darla slammed her over-full pack on the ground, rummaging like some desperate vagrant with a fury in her eyes. She then pulled out her sack of caps, and tossed them at the mercenary’s feet, it’s spoils spilling out into the dirt. Holy hell he’s never seen so many caps. Apparently this little hoarder was a lot more flushed than he thought she was.

“Take it. Take _all_ of it! Should hold you over for a while before you have to fuck someone else over.”

You know, he really should have done just that, but MacCready was for once in the very few times in his life stunned to silence. Darla took no time to heft her pack haphazardly back onto her shoulders, and made to storm off. That’s when he saw the blood. It stained the back of her legs and insides of her thighs. How long had she been injured? Had he really not noticed it before? There was so damn much of it he felt like an idiot for not noticing. For a moment, panic seized him. But where the hell…

“Oh…”

Realization hit MacCready like a ton of bricks. Darla’s behavior, her slow pace, the blood. Jesus fucking christ he was slow on the uptake. Hell if it weren’t for his wife, Lucy, he wouldn’t even know what was wrong. But now that he knew, he was at first uncomfortable, then embarrassed, then…

“Ha ha ha! B-Boss, you shoulda said something!”

MacCready had to keep a hand over his mouth to stifle down his laughter, to keep it from getting too out of hand. Ok, this shit wasn’t funny, but come on, it was a _little_ funny. Darla spun around and leveled that acid glare on him again, but that only got him laughing even harder.

“Something funny MacCready?”

“W-What?! We’re not kids! God d--seriously, boss.”

What in the hell was he laughing at? It was then that Darla noticed just how warm and damp her pants felt, and damn that look of horror on her face when she looked down at her blood-stained clothing.

“Fuck…”

Her face burned a deep red color, and she couldn’t bring herself to look up at her hired gun. Apparently the cloth she had used to line her underwear as an impromptu pad had bled through. The first two days were always her heaviest flow days, and unfortunately, also the days where the cramps were the worst. Darla gasped out as she was suddenly assaulted by a strong cramping pain, ramping up from the persistent ache that was slowling her down all day. She doubled over, digging her nails into the flesh of her stomach beneath her shirt. That got MacCready to sober up fast. Ok, amusement over.

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy boss...ummmm...breathe...just, breathe and hang on a second.”

Its been a couple of years since he’s had to deal with this. The first couple of cycles with Lucy startled him. Hell, the very first time he thought she was dying. Puberty really wasn’t something that was talked about in Little Lamplight, seeing as it was a sign of transition from childhood to adulthood, and the female body and the awful weird things it did was kept among the girls. At least it seemed to amuse Lucy how flustered it made MacCready. But after a few times of getting the hang of how it affected her body so much, he learned ways to comfort her, make the week a little easier. But this wasn’t Lucy. This was his boss, and Darla was a far cry from the woman Lucy was. He didn't know how to comfort her, what her likes and dislikes were. How the hell was he going to deal with this? MacCready took his hat off for a moment, running a nervous hand through his sweat-damp hair. He gave their surroundings a quick scan of the eye, and what luck! A fucking shack.

“Alright boss, we’re not going to make any further today. We can bed down for the rest of the evening, and play it by ear tomorrow. See how you’re feeling.”

Darla made to protest, but the cramping wouldn’t let up, and a wave of nausea rippled through her gut. She quickly discarder her pack once more, and fell to her hands and knees, wretching up what little water and food she had managed to keep down during their lunch stop. She couldn’t stop the frustrated sob that escaped her between heaving, tears and sweat dribbling down her face. Shit, Lucy had it bad, but Darla had it real bad. Could be because she’s been pushing it way too hard all damn day. Well, lesson learned. MacCready stooped down to quickly scoop up Darla's discarded caps, scooping them into the bag before stowing them away into her pack.

“Stay put a second.”

Like she could really manage to get off anywhere by herself. MacCready set his pack down beside Darla’s, pulling the weathered rifle from his back to look down the scope. He expected a raider or two, seeing as they favored these little shit shacks in the middle of nowhere, but the lantern was out and there was nothing but discarded trash littering the area. Fan-fucking-tastic. Their luck finally seemed to be changing.

“I know a rundown shack isn’t ideal, but it’ll have to do.”

MacCready hefted his stuffed pack back onto his shoulders, then glanced down at the second one on the ground. Alright, putting his stupid macho pride aside, there was no way he was carrying two overburdened packs and dragging Darla’s ass the distance to their makeshift shelter, no matter how much he wanted to (he couldn’t possibly actually _want_ to, could he?).

“Hate to say it boss, but you’re gonna have to heft that thing up. You can lean on me and I’ll crutch you over there, but...fu--why do you have to carry so much?!”

Darla’s only response was a disgruntled groan. The thought of carrying that thing was daunting, and she was honestly considering just leaving the damn thing here. But despite the junk, she had an awful lot that was also quite valuable, and there could very well be some fucking scavenger out there watching them like a hawk, just waiting for that sort of opportunity. So with a shaky intake of breath, Darla lurched the pack back onto her shoulders. Holy shit that made her feel dizzy. A sickening belch escaped from deep in her chest, followed by a strong dry heave. She was absolutely drenched in sweat and was sheet white. Damn it, better get her there fast. MacCready knew she was on her last leg of sheer willpower.

“It’s not far, come on.”

MacCready awkwardly slid his arm beneath Darla’s pack, wrapping it firmly around her waist. The weight of her pack was already making his arm go numb. Fucking great. He then manuevered her arm to sling it over his shoulders, and she gratefully leaned her weight into the mercenary volunteering as her crutch. Holy shit did she need to distribute that much weight onto him? He wasn’t a god damn pack mule.

“Nice and easy…”

With a grunt, MacCready led them forward, Darla staggering and struggling all the way. She was shuffling her feet through the dirt, but she was at least moving forward. Why did she have to be so thick-headed? Stubborn bitch that she was, there’s not a doubt in his mind she would have driven herself into the ground if he hadn’t have said anything about her condition. She was always sacrificing herself for everyone else, and MacCready just didn’t get it. What the hell did she get in return? Hell, the only reason they got paid for half of the bullshit jobs they do is because their employer insisted on doing so. She didn’t expect a damn thing in return. People like her were taken advantage of. Used up until there was absolutely nothing left. Maybe that’s why he stuck around when he could have hauled on out of here a long time ago. People like Darla needed someone looking out for them, keep their head straight.

 _No. This is a job. You’re here because you gave her your word. Nothing more to it._ At least that’s what MacCready insisted on continuing to tell himself.

After an agonizingly slow walk, having to stop a couple of times because Darla was feeling so faint, the duo made it to their makeshift shelter. It provided only two rundown walls and a roof with some gaping holes, but at least there was a mattress and it should shield out some of the wind and provide some cover should they have any unwanted visitors in the night. It was hardly worth bedding down here, but the absolute look of relief on the exhausted woman’s face told MacCready that it would be worth the hassle. Darla wriggled herself out of his grasp, staggering forward for the mattress. Hell, she didn’t even bother tossing her pack aside. She collapsed herself onto the old musty thing and sank into it, such a sigh of relief wheezing from her lips.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to find one of these ratty old mattresses…”

“You’re welcome.”

MacCready wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve, slamming his pack onto the creaky wooden floor. She must be really fucking beat to curl up into that mattress encumbered by all of her shit like that. What a sight.

_What am I going to do with you?_

“Alrighty boss, I’m pretty sure sleeping with that thing on isn’t going to be very comfortable.”

MacCready took a firm grip on Darla’s pack by the straps, and she gratefully allowed him to slide it off to the side next to his own. She didn’t bother striping down some of her layers like she usually did. Her body felt heavy, muscles far too overworked to slide out of her clothing. All she cared about was this mattress and finally being able to take a breather. The cramps finally wound down to a dull ache again, which was far more bearable. Her stomach was no longer doing flips, and despite feeling sticky with blood, she felt more comfortable than she had all day. She’d deal with the mess later. She didn’t have the energy or willpower to care.

“You just gonna...sleep like that? Shouldn’t you change or something?”

Darla waved a dismissing hand at MacCready, curling into a tight ball, cradling her sensitive abdomen as if to shield it. He couldn’t blame her for not bothering but fucking christ. What a mess. Well, at least this wasn't one of their mattresses.

“Well I sure hope you have a change of pants,” he replied in a chuckle, taking up post now in the chair that sat at the edge of the shack so he could keep watch.

God what a fucking day. It was a waste, it was a mess, and it was one of those days where he regretted allowing this stupid woman to hire him. It was also the same sort of day that he was glad she stepped into the Third Rail when she did. She was kind and at the same time had one of the smartest mouths he’s seen out here. She was a firecracker, a damn good shot (rivaling his own), and boy was she a great tactician out in the field. He couldn't count on his fingers anymore how many times one of her hair-brained plans has saved his ass. And for once, at least since the death of Lucy, he felt like someone cared about him. She hired him, she didn’t owe him shit but the caps for his services, and she was always looking out for him, even offering to go out of her way to help him with his little Gunner problem. She didn’t have to. She didn’t have to cook him meals, didn’t have to share laughs, didn’t have to fret over whether he was combat ready, but she did. He didn’t want to admit it, but MacCready knew it wasn’t just about the job and his promise to have her back. Not anymore.

MacCready was drawn from his thoughts by a low groan coming from the mattress, Darla turning over to her other side to face him. She looked exhausted and absolutely miserable.

“Wow, so this is how I get you to stop riding my ass and nagging me all the time.”

That rewarded MacCready with a sour look, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Poor miserable little soul. He almost felt bad for her. She was uncomfortable to be sure, but Darla wasn’t Lucy. He didn’t know what to do to make his boss feel better...or did he?

“If you’d stop bitching at me about my junk collecting maybe I’d...no. Nevermind. I still would. Just to see the way your face pinches when you start getting really annoyed with me.”

“Oh ha ha.”

It was Darla’s turn to laugh, a strained chuckle. Still, her mood was definitely starting to perk up again now that she wasn’t tormenting herself with the traveling. MacCready dragged his pack over now, rifling through it’s contents. Most of it was actually his, but he did find some junk from time to time. Darla snuck it in there when she was carrying too much and he wasn’t looking. Figures.

“What are you looking for? I have most of the food in my pack. On the top so it doesn’t get crushed.”

“Nah, I’m looking for somethiiiing...a little more specific. A little pick me up...a HA!”

Just what he was after. Victorious, MacCready pulled out a Grognak comic and a pack of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. If it was one thing he learned about Darla since they started traveling together, it was she was just as much a big child at heart as he was. His heart damn near melted at the light twinkling in her eyes. Before she could move, he sat himself down on the floor beside the mattress, giving both the comic and cakes to her.

“Thought you might like that.”

Darla made quick work of the package, and despite the things being pretty much stale and irradiated to hell, there was that hint of sweetness she loved indulging so much in when she was enduring her hell week as she called it. MacCready has never seen a grown woman savor the hell out of some old ass snack cakes before. It was a sight. Amusing.

“Hey Mac...thanks...for uh, putting up with me. I know I can be a downright intolerable bitch when I get like this...hell, Nathan wasn't even willing to put up with it.”

Whoa, whoa, hold the phone. The only reason MacCredy even knew the name Nathan was because Darla had talked about him in passing once. Neither of them knew much of each other. Just small hints of the past. She knew what little in a nutshell he spilled after they took out Winlock and Barnes, and he knew the little he read about in the paper and heard of in rumors flying around all over the place. But anytime the talk of her late husband comes up, there's always this look on her face. It was a look he couldn't really read. Sometimes it seems that she missed him, and other times...what sort of jackass was this guy, anyway?

“Never put up with it?”

Darla picked at the second snack cake, nibbling at it slowly as her eyes grew distant, remembering that time that was so far away, yet for her, not all that long ago.

“Nathan would...he’d stay out of the house as much as he could for the first couple of days. Always said he didn’t want to deal with no moody woman moaning about something that was so...trivial. Said he’s gotten over beatings in bar brawls faster than I got over my ‘woman pain’. He’d go drinking with his army buddies, come in late, fight with me...I usually just posted up on the couch curled up under a mass of blankets until the pain finally became tolerable.”

The line of Darla’s jaw grew tense as she grit her teeth, biting back those hot angry tears that threatened to betray her, let MacCready in to the reality of her past. She wanted to keep her past and the time before the war behind her, where it belonged, but sometimes she really wished she could have the support she needed to overcome the things she's hidden for so long. For his part, MacCready found himself incredibly angry. He understood this was just a natural thing, and it wasn’t pleasant, either, so was always very doting of Lucy when she endured this time of month. But for Nathan to treat Darla like it was something to be ashamed of was deplorable. Sounds like he was just the sort of husband MacCready tried his hardest not to be.

“Now you listen to me, boss.”

Darla slid her eyes up to MacCready’s, sniffling as she dried her eyes with her sleeve. He shouldn’t care. Why did he care? Why did his heart ache to see her hurting like this? If that fucking prick wasn’t dead he’d give Nathan a good wallop to the face.

“Lucy had a hard time dealing with this, too. This is what your body does. If you need to slow down and take a breather, you need to tell me. You’re always fussing over me, and you don’t take ever a second for yourself. What’s a couple days of just slowing down if you really need it, ok? You don’t have to be fu--embarrassed about this, you hear me? But I’m not a mind reader. You need to let me know what’s going on or I can’t…”

_What, help her? Help her like she’s helped you?_

“I won't know to slow the pace. I mean christ your the boss! You say jump, I say how high. It’s how this works. So stop riding yourself so hard…”

A small smile twitched to Darla’s lips, the woman breaking eye contact with him. He knew that look. That was the look he had before he met her, and before he started getting used to Darla always being there for him. That was the look of someone who really wasn’t all that used to having someone care for them and was now rather overwhelmed with this unexplainable feeling. She felt warm, safe, which was very rare in this post-apocalyptic wasteland. Darla had been going through a whirlwind nightmare ever since she stepped out of that vault, and the only reason she had ventured out of the area of her old home town was to find her son. She was out of time and hope, and the thought of a future in this hell, even when she did find Shaun, was almost more than she could stomach. Now, she was starting to see a future filled with brighter days and kinder hearts. Perhaps, it wasn’t quite so hopeless. Darla reached out to take MacCready’s hand, squeezing it gently. It was his turn to be the bashful one.

“I mean what I said Mac, thank you. I’m grateful that I have you here…”

“Yeah, uh, no prob boss…”

MacCready couldn’t believe his luck. He came to the Commonwealth in search of work, nothing more, and instead found something far more rare; a friend, someone he could trust and depend on. It was times like these, sitting next to this beautiful woman, reading and laughing along into the night to his favorite comic, that it almost made dealing with the same woman’s insane junk collecting worth it.

Almost.


End file.
